


Shake it out (it's hard to dance with a devil on your back)

by olandesevolante



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olandesevolante/pseuds/olandesevolante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since when he's left the Basque Country, Ander feels something heavy on his chest, something he can't get rid of, because he doesn't know what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake it out (it's hard to dance with a devil on your back)

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted at my journal: olandesevolante@livejournal.com (where I also ramble a little about this story)

**Shake it out (it's hard to dance with a demon on your back)**   
  


_ God is a good worker, but loves to be helped. _

_(Basque proverb)_

  
  
There's something heavy in his chest, and Ander doesn't know what it is, and, what's even worst, he doesn't know why it is there.  
He collects his luggages slowly, around him his friends -his new friends, his new English friends- are quietly chatting and joking. Ander wonders why it seems that only him is having something painful right between his stomach and his heart. He sees David leaning toward Juan and brushing something off his hair, and his chest feels even tighter.  
«Ander, do you need a lift home?», asks him the voice of the goalkeeper, smiling. «I take home Juan too, so it won't be a problem at all».  
«Oh, thank you but... Darren asked me some minutes ago, so... I'll go with him», answers Ander as he spots the Scotman walking not far from him and watching him, pleading silently, only with his eyes.  
Darren doesn't say anything and just drives home an Ander who just can't stop talking, no matter about what; the only important thing is not leaving a single moment of silence. As if he's scared that, in those pauses, his brain will take him to some road he doesn't want to walk. Darren doesn't seem to matter, anyway; he likes this new Spanish boy both on the pitch and outside.  
  


\-----

  
There are two missed calls on his phone when he wakes up the day after, all dizzy because of the jet lag. He stares at the ceiling for some minutes, blinking his eyes and trying to remember where he is before actually being able to recognize his new home in Manchester. Sometimes it happens to him, not to understand that where he is it's his house; maybe it's been too short, maybe with the time this thing will pass. When Ander thinks 'home', he still sees the one he owned in Bilbao, or the one he grew up in as a child; this hasn't become his real home yet, but both Juan and David told him that it's a normal thing. In a bunch of months this feeling won't be there anymore.  
He left the phone on but he didn't hear any sound from it, too tired and sleepy. So, when he touches the screen and sees that someone searched him, he's a bit surprised. He's never been the lazy one in the team, he's usually the one to wake up and has to shake his friends, in order to make them have their breakfast and not to be late at training. He hasn't complained ever for this; he likes being someone his teammates can rely on, and it happened so many times with his last team.  
 _Two missed calls from: Iker Muniain_  
Ander groans, falls again with his back on the sheets and closes his eyes.  
  
When he wakes up again, there aren't any new calls or messages. He sees that it's only five in the morning and realizes that he can't call Iker back now. At this hour everyone would yell at him because normal people at this time are used to sleep; maybe only his parents wouldn't but just because they're expecting him to phone them because of the loneliness, of the distance, of being homesick or whatever.  
But Iker is completely another story. They've roomed together for enough time not to know that a call wouldn't bother him, but not because he's his friend, just because he sleeps too much to hear any kind of sounds, from the cellphone to the workers in the street. There were times in which neither the idea of having a great breakfast was enough to get him out of the bed, and so Ander was forced to pull his covers away and hear him complaining for some more minutes about how much he was evil, that what he has just done was a violation of the human rights.  
He decides he can call him in the evening, after his practise; Ander thinks for a second of sending him a message, but then he's sure that that would be such a teenager thing, as Iker knows for sure that nothing bad happened to him. So, he gets up and heads to the shower.  
  
That night, Ander goes out and eats at a nice restaurant with the other Spaniards of the team, and absolutely forgets to call Iker.  
  


\-----

  
His English isn't bad, but Ander knows it could be a lot better and he curses himself for not paying the right attention when he was at school. The first time he has an interview with the television he founds himself gesturing to underline what he's saying, because it's not sure he's really saying what he wants.  
«This will be my first time outside Europe», he says in front of the camer while moving his hands, and right after that he's feeling so stupid. It's 2014 and he's 25, how is it even possible not to be good at English?  
He remembers when he was still in Spain and made fun of Iker and his bad English, much worse than his. There, he was feeling so proud, so better than him, it was easy thinking that everything was alright just while they were talking and kidding together.  
His mind is wandering again and it always wander towards Iker.  
  
Ander has called him a few times since he moved to England, but he doesn't really like it. Iker sounds strange now, as if he is something different now. They're living two different kinds of life now, and Ander fears that this is the main thing between them, he fears that this is like an obstacle in their conversation. Even when Ander asks something like how's the weather there or if his dog is good, he feels that there's something wrong in Iker's answers. Like he's thinking that what happens in Bilbao isn't really interesting anymore for him now that he's playing in one of the greatest teams ever. Like Iker thinks Ander isn't interested in talking with him now that they're not teammates. Ander hates this thing that's between them, because he know it's not true, Iker and hime were friends even outside the pitch, and if he calls him it's because he really wants to now how is his friend. But then, Iker feels so distant when answering that Ander isn't enjoying much their phone calls, which are becoming less and less frequent.  
All this just makes his chest heavier and heavier. Sometimes he leans on the couch and just feels it overwhelming him, still not knowing what it is.  
  


\-----

  
«So, how do you feel now? It's been four months now that you're here!», asks David, always smiling towards him.  
«It's good. I like the fans, and playing at Old Trafford... Well, it was a dream even when I came here with Athletic Bilbao and won», answers Ander, cutting his steak. There's this beautiful place that David and Juan showed him when he arrived where they can eat typical Spanish food that really seems like real Spanish food. It's always good being there after a week of hard work and a won match.  
«But? Go on, Ander», tells him Juan, and Ander wants to punch him in that moment. Juan and his incredible ability at understanding him without the need to say a word. Well, not only him, it seems that he's good at reading everyone there, and he's a good listener too.  
Not actually wanting to give an answer, Ander chooses a compromise and puts in his mouth a piece too big of his steak. He takes some minutes more to find an answer, but in the end he's not sure of what he's going to say, because he doesn't really know how he's feeling.  
«Juan, I don't know. I'm happy here and I wanted this team more than anything else, but there's something wrong that I can't understand. It's-», starts then, but he stops because how can you explain that sometimes, out of nothing, you chest aches so much it's even painful to breathe? How can you say to a friend that sometimes you just stay there in your room, blank staring, trying to understand what's wrong and still not finding the solution?  
«The other teammates like you. The fans like you, they're so happy they have a great midfielder like you», tells him David in a reassuring tone, as if he was a child in need of protection and compliments from his parents. He's not.  
«I know, and it's great all of this», murmurs, eyes kept fixed on the table. Even without looking at them, he can feel the glare between them (it's actually impossible to stay next to them and not feeling what's between them, as it's more than a relationship that incredible thing that bounds them), then Juan puts one of his arms around his shoulders.  
«Maybe you're just homesick. You know, the sun of Spain compared to this always rainy weather it's enough to make everyone want to escape».  
Ander just leans toward him and lets the warm from his body heat himself; he doesn't remind Juan, though, that in the Basque Country the rain is more frequent than what people usually think.  
«If you want to talk about everything, to play FIFA, to go somewhere or just need someone next to you, you just have to call one of us, ok? We don't want you to be sad», says then Juan, and David nods.  
Ander knows he should be happy, his professional life is flying and he has such good friends here. And he's happy, actually. There's only this permanent unpleasant sensation burning slowly inside him.  
  


\-----

  
The first time he comes back to Spain is for an international duty, and it surprised him a lot to receive the call for the major team. His teammates all laugh at his incredulity, because Ander has played so well since he's in England that it would be a shame not to bring him in the Spain national team. Plus, the team needed new people after the terrible loss in Brazil,it needed fresh players who hadn't won anything before. People who are hungry of victories.  
Ander he's happy to come back to Spain for some days. He decided at the start of his new adventure in England not to come back before at least 6 months, because he knows that the nostalgia is quick to find you but slow to go away. And now it's October, not really the time he wanted but enough, and he has no choice, actually, as he's going to play there.  
  
He'll find again some of his old friends -Fer, Itu, maybe Javi too will be in Spain as long as he can't play with Bayern for some months more-, but not Iker, who's going to play with the U21 again. He thought that Iker would be one of the first to be part of this new team built after the World Cup, but it seems that for this time he hasn't played well enough -or, more probably, it's just that in these years there are a lot of great Spanish players of all ages, and it's difficult to be the one to be chosen. Maybe the next time it will be his chance, too.  
Ander wants to write something to him, a text, maybe they can see each other while they're both in same country, even just for a drink, for a couple of hours. He doesn't know what it is that holds him back and doesn't make him take that damned phone to write him a thing. He feels sick without a reason. Juan and David are sharing the room next to his, but even if they told him to feel free to ask them anything, he doesn't want to be the kid with nightmares who runs to his parents. Ander puts his phone away and curls on the bed.  
  


\-----

  
«Ander? It's all okay?», asks him the gentle voice of David. There's always something so reassuring when he speaks, something that makes you feel better (when he's off the pitch, of course, because when he's playing he's always shouting and not always in a gentle way).  
«Yes, why are you asking? Did I do something wrong?». They've just finished their training session, and he' afraid he's played bad. He didn't sleep much that night, he just couldn't get asleep; he stared at the ceiling for so long that he got nauseated by its colour and even thought about paint it in a new way. After that, he decided to stop trying to sleep and watched a movie instead.  
«No, but... Yesterday I spoke with Iker».  
Ander frozes.  
«And he told me he is worried about you, because it's been more than two weeks since you last talked».  
Ander looks down, fixes his eyes on his shoes and doesn't move them. He feels guilty. Of course Iker is worried, they're friend and he stopped talking to him without a reason.  
«Look, I don't know if there are any problems between you two and I don't even wanna know. What I want is you to know that you can talk to me about everything that's not right, okay? And not only because I'm one of your teammates and we need to be okay with ourselves to win, but also because I'm your friend and I want you to be happy».  
Ander smiles at the goalkeeper who reaches his hair with a hand and ruffles them.  
  
The truth is, Ander didn't say anything to David about how he's feeling. And not because he didn't want to; at the moment to a shooting star he'd ask to help him and to make lighter that weight that's living on his chest.  
He didn't say anything because actually he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how he's feeling because he doesn't understand why he's feeling bad, or what is that is making him feeling bad. But this strange sort of anxiety mixed with sadness is creeping up to his spine, and the most worrying thing is that he absolutely doesn't know what to do to delay it.  
  
When he's home, he picks up his phone and composes Iker's number. But then, he doesn't want to call him just because David told him how worried is his friend. He wants to talk to him because he wants to, without any other reasons. And even if he's actually missing the chatting with him about random things, he puts his phone down.  
  


\-----

  
Then, one day Ander wakes up and thinks that there's too much light in the room, like he's forgotten to close the window before going to bed. But he's sure he did it. He frowns a bit while thinking, then opens his eyes. And makes a big jump, scared.  
«WHAT THE HELL- Iker, what are you doing here?! And how did you enter my house?!», shouts Ander, trying to catch his breath because he's still a bit shocked. On the other hand, Iker is sat on the edge of his bed, a huge grin on his face.  
«You should see yourself, Ander, all scared like a baby when he sees a big dog barking», replies, and Ander finds himself throwing his pillow against Iker, who just laughs. «And, don't worry, your door is still working. I asked David if he could give me the key you gave him -don't make that face, I talk with him so much, of course he tells me everything about you too».  
These words sting a little Ander, who fight with the urge of asking him if this is why he stopped calling him, as he was having enough information from David. Instead, he gets up and leaves Iker alone in the bedroom.  
«Hey! Where are you going? I've seen the kitchen isn't there!», complains Iker with a childlish voice.  
«I'm going to take a shower, you know, to dissipate all the fear you brought to me. And, tell me, what should I do in the kitchen?». He's walking barefoot, but he doesn't mind.  
Iker makes a strange sound, like a sigh meant for a person who's acting way too stupid to actually believe him. «Make me breakfast, of course!». And with this, he jumps of the bed and collects the jacket he's left on the only chair in the room, before heading to the said kitchen.  
«But you're already there with a chewing-gum in your mouth, of course you've already had breakfast!».  
«Yeah, and so? I'm hungry again!».  
  
«It's almost New Year's day, that's why I'm here. In the rest of the world, we're free to celebrate and have holidays in these days», explains Iker, after having eaten two croissant and drunk a big mug of hot milk in a café -Ander decided soon that he wasn't feeling like cooking something for them, so he broght his friend to a little but nice place near to his house.  
«Yeah, I haven't lost my memory, I clearly remember this», says Ander and Iker breaths an "old" with half voice. «I was just surprised to find you here, I thught you would celebrate with your family or with the guys in Bilbao».  
«I thought it was time to see Manchester. I've never been here -well, except for that time we played here», says Iker and winks at him, because that day is still a great thing to remember for them. «Maybe I can come and watch your match at the stadium. They always say that the Old Trafford has such a great atmosphere, why not trying to see if these rumours are true?».  
Ander smiles at his words. «Yes, you can. But only if you take a napkin and clean your face, you've got milky moustaches like you're 5 or 6».  
  
«Beautiful pitch, beautiful match, beautiful crowd and everything, really. But I'm soooo cold!», whines Iker as he enters Ander's home. He sits on the couch without taking off his scarf or his jacket. «See, my hands are so red and it's like they're iced, I can't use my fingers properly, see!», adds then while trying to close them around a blanket without succeeding.  
Ander can't help laughing because yes, December here is really cold, but Iker is just like a baby. «Shut up and stay there, I can make you some hot chocolate».  
Iker's eyes shine like stars.  
«But then it will be you to explain to your coach how is it possible that in a few days you've gained so much weight», finishes the midfielder, but he knows that now nothing will take Iker away from wanting that hot chocolate. Just like a baby, he's always like these with sweets, always chewing something, always hungry for them.  
When he comes back from the kitchen, Iker is asleep on his couch, still with all his winter clothes on, all wrapped in the blanket.  
«Iker. Iker, come on, you can't sleep like this, take off the jacket», tries Ander and start unzipping it. Iker moves away and curls.  
«I'm cold. Leave me like this».  
«You'll get up sweating and you'll have a fever tomorrow. And that will be even worse to explain». He tries again, and this time Iker lets him undo his scarf and take off his jacket.  
«Ander, I'm too cold, I want them back», whines again Iker.  
«You'll be warmer soon», promises Ander. Then, he has an idea; he sits on the end of the couch and picks Iker's feet in his lap, brushing them with his hands.  
«Better?».  
Iker hums, sated. He stays quiet for some minutes then, enjoying the sensation and the pleasure from Ander's fingers that are travelling gently around his feet, but he stills. Ander frowns and stares at him. «What's up? Did I hurt you, maybe?».  
«I'm cold, Ander. I'm so cold», he says again, watching his friend right in his eyes. His eyes are bigger than usual and deeper, darker. He's never seen him like this, and Ander too feels something inside him, something burning with a flame that's not the weight he's used to feel. It's more intense, and this time, Ander has no doubts about it; he clearly knows what he's feeling.  
«Iker...», he starts, but then he doesn't know what to say. He swallows, and sees how Iker's eyes follow the movement his throat makes.  
«I'm cold, Ander. What about coming here and making me warm?», asks then Iker, in a shy voice that Ander is sure he's never heard before, not from the most joking person he's ever played with. He feels his cheeks reddening, but he can't say no -better, he doesn't want to say no.  
Lying on the sofa with an arm around Iker waist and his back pressed against his own chest, Ander is staring at Iker's neck and feels an incredible urge to kiss it. To kiss it and not only one time, to cover it with kisses, and this would be just the starting point.  
«Do it». Iker's voice is barely more than a whisper, but it's enough to to shock the midfielder. For a moment he's sure he's just said and not only thought what he'd like to do with Iker's neck.  
«What?».  
«Whatever you're thinking at», says Iker, without any trace of that shyness that there was before. Like this is something they'd done for ages and they had to stop for some reason. Except for the fact that they had never been something more than just friends -close, yes, but still friends (if you don't count the night they lost the Europa League final; that time they spent their night in the same bed, Iker sobbing a lot and Ander holding him tight. But that absolutely doesn't count, for they have been in a terrible psychic state).  
«How... How do you know?», asks Ander, curious and admired at the same time.  
«I've been knowing for a long time, Ander. I've been wanting it for a long time, but it never happened. And then, you decided you wanted to go to Manchester», answers the younger, moving his back to be closer than before to Ander and playing with the fingers of his hand, in nervously way.  
Ander feels guilty.  
«I...».  
«I know why, you don't need to explain this again», Iker stops him, especially because he doesn't want to listen to it anymore. Ander had all his reasons, but to Iker leaving Athletic Bilbao is and probably will be forever the silliest thing to do. Not every player has the chance to play for it, and it's so stupid to go away, that's what he thinks. «But I thought it couldn't happen anymore, and that sucked, a lot».  
The midfielder takes a long breath before talking again: «Iker. I've never thought about this. I was just missing you more than I expected, and now that you're here it seems like it's the best thing happened to me in a long time». After this, Ander moves and tentatively leaves a kiss on the back of Iker's neck, and notices with pleasure that this fills the younger's skin with goosebumps. He leaves another one, then another, then he's on his cheek. Iker moves and lays on his back, staring at him. Ander decides to move again, and kisses his lips, darting tentatively his tongue at first, and soon Iker opens his mouth to let him enter. It's a bit strange, Ander has never kissed a man before and he's not used to the feeling of the beard scratching against him; it's strange but not uncomfortable. The feeling of Iker's hands under his shirt, against his bare skin, is enough to make him break the kiss and gasp. Iker smirks and pulls him down again for another long, breathtaking kiss.  
  
It's Iker. It's Iker, it has always been him and Ander can't understand how could he be so blind not to see it.  
Because now it's so obvious that that annoying human being who's snoring with the head on his shoulder, that kid who was always talking, always tricking, always doing something he shouldn't do, he was the one who also always lifted the weight Ander carries on his shoulders. The midfielder actually have never thought about it when they were playing together, but now he can recognize how caring Iker always has been towards him. How he was always there to make him smile after a loss, to help him exiting the pitch when he got hurt, to spend the night at his house, watching some stupid program neither of them really wanted to watch instead of going to some club, only because he didn't want to leave Ander alone. He and his teammate used to think of him like a kid, actually, but the truth is that he was able to see better than Ander what was going on between them, to accept it and to suffer in silence too.  
Because right now, there's nothing in his chest shouting and trying to escape; it's all calm like the sea at night. Well, except for the arm of the younger that's laying across it, heavy and warm against his bare skin, but this doesn't count. This isn't an uncomfortable feeling, a cat scratching his stomach; this feels like family, like home.  
«Stop thinking, will you?», says then, completely unexpected, Iker's voice. «There's someone trying to sleep here, and the noise your brain is making is unbearable».  
«Shut up, kid. You're as noisy as a train when you snore», answers Ander back, but ruffles Iker's hair one more time that night affectionately and kisses lightly the top of his head.  
  


\-----

  
«Don't do it again, never», says Iker while Ander is parking the car outside the airport. It's time for him to go back and start playing again.  
«Do what?», frowns the midfielder, as the younger has just started speaking after some minutes in silence - which is a strange thing about Iker. He's noisy, talkative, always moving and never quiet.  
«Not answering my calls and texts for all that time. I was really scared that something happened to the real you, and that the Ander I saw playing on the tv was just a puppet». Iker talks like he's really believing his words.  
«Idiot». Ander hardly resists the temptation to laugh, and only because he still feels guilty about his behaviour towards Iker in the last months. He's thankful also that his friend didn't ask any explanation for that, for he doesn't know what he could said about it.  
«Maybe, but you have to promise this to me». He's talking in his usual childlish voice, as he knows that Ander just can't resist when he does it.  
Ander shakes lightly his head. Then he kisses him, and they both know this is more than a promise said with words could be.

 


End file.
